


Everything To Me

by purplestarfish



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14249751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplestarfish/pseuds/purplestarfish
Summary: "They skidded through a frosted glass door into a mid-sized room with three solid gray concrete walls and no furniture. Dead end. They turned to go back the other way, but the door had already closed. And, Len realized as he looked for any kind of handle or doorknob on this side of the door, sealed shut.They were trapped.Fuck."Very loosely inspired by the song of the same title by Liz Phair.Warning: Descriptions of past childhood abuse and ongoing trauma.





	Everything To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> Please heed the tags and warnings and keep yourselves safe!
> 
> Otherwise, hope you enjoy! Let me know if you have any feedback - it’s really very helpful.
> 
> Also, anyone waiting for more Clint Barton/Phil Coulson fluff - it’s coming! It’s just going to be longer and might take a while, so I wanted to get this out first.

“What are you even doing here?!” Barry shouted as they ran (at regular human speed – Len was not about to ask Barry to carry him, thank you very much) through the maze that was the Luthor mansion. When Len had arrived, Barry was being held in Luthor’s dungeon, strapped down to a surgical table, and Len had shot Luthor in the feet with the Cold Gun and helped Barry escape. Len had heard through the super-villain grapevine that Luthor had managed to sedate The Flash long enough to capture him, and had known immediately he had to do something. Really, everyone should know by now that Barry was his to mess with and his alone.

 

“I was in the neighborhood, thinking I might steal a couple things – then I saw you were in the hot seat here and figured I’d do you a favor and cool things off a little,” Len lied through his teeth. Nobody needed to know about his crush on Barry the size of the Empire State Building, and especially not Barry himself. The more Captain Cold and The Flash had come in contact over the years, the further Len had fallen. Unfortunately, he had it on good authority that Barry didn’t give a shit about him in return.

 

Not that Len thought Barry wasn’t attracted to him – on the contrary, Len was sure if he invited Barry back to his place one of these nights, he’d get an amazing fuck out of the deal. It’s just that Barry would probably suggest they get a hotel room instead. It was never going to go beyond sex for Barry, who wanted Len to be some kind of hero.

 

And Len had tried. He really had tried to worm his way into Barry’s life in a way that didn’t just involve the superhero breezing in to stop one of Len’s heists every once in a while – whenever Len decided no one would blame him if he made just one little deliberate mistake in his escape plan. It’s just that Barry didn’t seem to care what Len did to try to get through to him. He was never going to be more than a minor inconvenience to the guy, and it was about time he accepted that.

 

They skidded through a frosted glass door into a mid-sized room with three solid gray concrete walls and no furniture. Dead end. They turned to go back the other way, but the door had already closed. And, Len realized as he looked for any kind of handle or doorknob on this side of the door, sealed shut.

 

They were trapped.

 

_Fuck._

 

Len’s knees immediately started to go weak as he looked around the room for an alternate exit, and he moved to the back of the room where he sank to the floor, leaning back against the wall. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped it wasn’t booby-trapped.

 

There was a reason Len planned all of his escape routes so meticulously, and contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t his distaste for law enforcement. His fear of small enclosed spaces had much more to do with the small enclosed spaces themselves. And no, he wasn’t going to get into the tragic back story that had led to it, thanks for asking. He simply preferred his big house with high ceilings and more window than wall over the feeling of being trapped. That was all. Very rational, really. And Mick had put up with it just fine over the years, so Len didn’t see any reason to do anything about it.

 

“Shit, we’re stuck!” Barry announced helpfully, also scouring the room for other possibilities of exit. Not finding any, he walked to the opposite end of the room from the door, took a deep breath, then sprinted at Flash-speed at the frosted glass. Len heard a loud _crack_ as he bounced off it, rubbing his shoulder. Len tried not to panic.

 

He looked over at Barry, who was frowning in thought, but he couldn’t focus on the cute wrinkle on Barry’s forehead for long before he was distracted by his surroundings again. He rubbed his clammy palms against his pants and tried to breathe. He took off his parka, hoping that might make him feel slightly less constricted, but it didn’t help. He tried not to look at the walls, but they seemed to be…

 

“Scarlet? A-are the walls closing in?” Len asked, cursing himself as the words came out, and doubly so for how they came out so weakly.

 

Barry looked up at him for the first time since they’d been caught there, as though only now realizing he wasn’t alone.

 

“Len,” he asked carefully, “Are you claustrophobic?”

 

Well, there was no use denying it now. He let out a shuddering breath and nodded faintly, a slight whimper making its way past his throat. God, he hoped Barry hadn’t heard that.

 

In an instant, Barry was by his side, holding his hand out towards him but not quite touching.

 

“Is this okay?” He asked. Len nodded again. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to blink away the start of tears. Barry placed his hand gently on Len’s forearm, grounding him. It helped keep the panic at bay slightly, but didn’t change the feeling of the concrete closing in on him. He was going to suffocate in here if he didn’t die of a heart attack first. _Fuck_ , what was wrong with him? He’d been in tight spaces before – even for him this was extreme. But it felt like the fear of panicking, especially in front of Barry, just made the panic worse and he couldn’t keep it from escalating.

 

“Len, it’s going to be okay,” Barry said calmly, surely. “We’re fine, you’re safe, the walls aren’t moving, Luthor will be here soon to get us out of here.” Len let out a snort at the idea that Barry’s kidnapper returning - likely to kill them after that lovely incident with the Cold Gun - was something to look forward to. He had to admit it did relax him slightly though.

 

Barry paused in thought, then changed tacks. He got up and walked over to the wall to Len’s left. “Here, look,” he said, putting his palm up against the wall, “Not moving, see? We’re good.”

 

Len tried to believe him. Until, suddenly, things weren’t so good, and Len noticed the change on Barry’s face before he had the chance to hide it.

 

“Wha-?” he choked out.

 

Barry braced himself before he started talking. “Okay, Len, don’t panic, everything’s fine. The walls are maybe actually moving just a little bit, but – “

 

The pounding in Len’s ears drowned out most of the rest. He thought he heard something about a “trap” and “that asshole” and “not fast or anything, don’t worry”. He couldn’t process how those words were supposed to fit together though. He was going to die in here. After everything, he was going to die crushed between two concrete walls. This had to be a nightmare.

 

Len squeezed his eyes tight. The start of a flashback, images of the inside of a supply cupboard and the smell of urine crept up, and Len forced them back. The panic attack was inevitable at this point, but he didn’t have to die thinking about his fucking father. Instead, he concentrated on the sound of Barry’s footsteps as he paced back and forth across the room, thinking. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, pivot, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, pivot, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, pivot – wait, shit, was that one only 5? He needed to concentrate on Barry’s voice. Why wasn’t Barry talking anymore? Why wasn’t he here?

 

Suddenly, Barry’s voice cut through Len’s thoughts again, reverberating in his brain. He had no idea what any of the words meant, but he tried to concentrate on the sound of them anyway.

 

“Okay, the door’s glass, right? Really fucking strong glass, thanks for that, Luthor, _ow_ – but still glass. Glass reacts to sudden changes in temperature, right? We have a Cold Gun – that’ll be a very sudden change in temperature.”

 

Wait. That didn’t sound right, and Len tried to focus on why not. Freezing the glass would just coat it in ice – it wouldn’t be enough, and then there’d be a wall of ice to break through too. He had to tell Barry.

 

“Can’t…” he got out weakly, eyes still shut, before he dissolved into a coughing fit. Well, that was probably very helpful information.

 

Luckily, Barry seemed to have gotten to the same conclusion. “We need the glass hot – my suit can melt your ice, so that should work. Okay, here’s the plan. Len, are you listening? Please stay with me, look, there’s still tons of space. I’m going to take your Cold Gun for a minute, okay? Is that okay? Okay, you’re not responding, but I’m going to take that as a yes. Just don’t punch me in the face, all right? I’m just gonna take it from you slowly… theeeerrre you go. Okay, now I just need to alternate between hitting the door with the Cold Gun and heating it up with the suit… okay, here we go. Ready, Cold? You’re gonna be just fine, I promise. I’m gonna get you out of here. Okay. Here goes nothing.”

 

Len heard the Cold Gun go off, and then a dripping noise, presumably ice melting. Without the sound of Barry’s voice to distract him, he zoned out again. The lack of oxygen – whether from hyperventilating or an actual lack of air in the room or both – was seriously getting to him. Actually, he thinks he might have blacked out, because the next thing he heard was a loud crash coming from the doorway. And then two more loud crashes in quick succession. Something was shattering. Len wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was.

 

Slowly, he started to make out voices again. Or rather, a voice. And was that a hand on his forearm? Barry was speaking. _Listen to Barry._

 

“Cold? Hey, it’s okay, I got through the door. Come on, open your eyes, we can go now. Cold? Len? Fuck, come on, we need to hurry, the walls… Len, come on. Can you move your legs?”

 

Len couldn’t even open his eyes. He shook his head, feeling the tears streaming down his face. If it weren’t so tragic it probably would have been comical. Barry was just going to have to leave him behind. At least it would all be over soon.

 

He felt his elbow brush against something hard. God, this was it.

 

“Fuck, okay,” he heard, then a _whoosh_ and he was sitting on a much more comfortable surface than that goddamn concrete floor. Barry must have moved him. Wait, was he in Barry’s lap? Yeah, that felt like the Flash suit he was leaning against.

 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now, we made it, we’re outside, you’re safe now, Cold, you can feel the Sun, right? I’ve got you, we made it out, you’re safe now,” Barry was murmuring quiet reassurances over and over again in his ear, fingers scratching gently across his scalp. Len still couldn’t open his eyes, but his breathing was starting to slow, and he was fairly confident that the tears marring his cheeks now were stale ones.

 

He felt Barry’s hands slowly clasp his, unfurling them from the tight fists they had apparently been in. The tension started to leach from his body.

 

“Shh, that’s right, Len, let go for me, okay? You’re doing so good. You’ve just cut up your palms a bit with your nails, but you’re okay. You’re safe now.”

 

It was that that made Len finally drag his eyes open to look at his hands. Barry was right – his hands were covered in blood. But that hardly mattered as he lifted his head to look around. They were in a park, sitting on the side of a grassy hill, looking out on an endless expanse of water. Len was curled in Barry’s lap and there was sun and grass and water as far as the eye could see. He was safe.

 

As the remaining tension drained from his body, he suddenly felt exhausted. Shit, it had been a long time since he’d had a panic attack, he’d almost forgotten how tiring they were. He slumped against Barry until they both fell back onto the hill, and he let himself be lulled by the warmth of Barry’s arms, which protected him while staying loose and gentle, not letting him feel the least bit constrained.

 

They lay there like that for a long time. Len couldn’t have said how long, but he might have dozed off once or twice. Eventually, he realized, he was going to have to talk. But Barry wasn’t asking, so maybe he could have this for just a little while longer.

 

Finally, Len took in a deep breath and forced himself to start. “So,” he breathed, “I guess you’re wondering what that was all about?”

 

Barry smiled at him gently. “Only if you want to talk about it,” he said.

 

Len just nodded and then paused again before continuing. “My father, as you know, was… not a great guy.”

 

Barry nodded encouragingly.

 

“When I was young – between maybe four and eleven or so – he sometimes – “

 

And Len told him. Everything. Well, not everything, not some of the gory details, but enough. He told him about how his father, when he got especially drunk and angry, after he beat him and Lisa would lock them in the supply closet under the stairs. How there’d be no light coming in, and how it always felt like they were going to suffocate. How hot it was, how his father wouldn’t give them food, or water, how there was no point asking to come out to use the bathroom, how they’d be locked in there for days at a time. How he started hiding a small bottle of water in a crack in the wall, where his father couldn’t find it, and how the crack wasn’t big enough for more than the one small bottle, so he’d wait until they were both about to pass out from dehydration and then he’d give it to Lisa. How one time he hadn’t woken up at all until Lewis had taken him to the hospital to have an IV inserted, and had told the nurses there that he’d had the stomach flu. He’d certainly smelled badly enough for them to believe it. He’d been shocked his father had even bothered with the hospital.

 

When he finished telling his story, Barry said nothing. He simply continued to hold Len gently, running one hand through his hair and the other up and down his back, grounding him enough that he wasn’t worried about starting to cry again. He looked up at Barry, who smiled softly back at him. That smile made Len feel brave.

 

“Could you… could you tell me again? That thing you were saying before?” _Well, that wasn’t very helpful, was it?_ But as always, Barry seemed to read his mind.

 

“You’re safe now,” he said, looking straight into Len’s eyes. And that was it. Len was done. He couldn’t hold back another second. He had to, though – had to ask, had to be sure.

 

“Can I… kiss you?”

 

Barry nodded and Len surged forward. Barry’s lips were strong but pliant, and he seemed to be giving every bit as much to the kiss as Len was. It was everything he’d ever imagined it might be, even with the snot and tears still running down Len’s face. Actually, come to think of it, that was kind of gross. Len pulled back.

 

“How about we go back to my place so I can shower, then we could resume this activity?” Len asked, working his way into his standard smirk despite how ridiculous it must look under his red, swollen eyes.

 

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Barry smiled. “I happen to know from your shitty movie references that you’ve got plenty of movie choices for us to ignore.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” he chuckled, “You can talk quality movies to me _after_ you’ve watched _The Incredibles._ It is truly an inspiration.”

 

“I don’t even want to know.”

 

As they walked back towards his place, Barry’s arm wrapped lightly around Len’s waist, Len thought maybe he’d misjudged Barry. Maybe Barry could find it in his heart to care for Len after all – he supposed there had to be some reason they called him a hero.

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't spent much time in The Flash fandom, so sorry for any OOC-ness! Obviously when Snart's having a panic attack we can't expect him to be his usual self, but other than that, I mean.


End file.
